Island Adventures
by GunterRae
Summary: Sherlock is called to investigate a string of murders on Mackinac Island, in the United States. Needing a cover story for being at such a romantic tourist getaway, he makes his way through his possible companions and concludes his only choice is Molly Hooper. Hijinks ensue.
1. Chapter 1

"No, I understand. Yes. Yes. Of course. No, that won't be necessary, I'll take care of it myself." Sherlock paced the sitting room of 221B, obviously irritated at the person on the other end of his mobile. "I'm sure I can figure something out." Sherlock sighed and moved the phone away from his ear, picking at an invisible piece of lint on his jacket instead of listening. After a few moments he put the phone back to his ear. "I'll send you the information when I've got it, and I'll be ready by Saturday morning, don't trouble yourself."

He jabbed at the phone, ending the call, and threw his phone onto the sofa, then threw himself into his favorite chair. Sherlock hated owing debts, and he especially hated owing debts to his brother, of all people. But when "Moriarty's Return" had been nothing of the sort, Mycroft had dug in his heels and saved Sherlock from having to take the suicide mission that was his "punishment" for killing Magnusson.

And for the last six months, Mycroft had used this to his advantage, sending his brother all over the world to solve crimes and do work for him.

Including this time.

Sherlock sighed and stood, snatching his phone off the sofa before storming down the stairs and out the door to catch a cab. Mrs. Hudson called out after him, "The doors, Sherlock! You're going to throw them right off the hinges one of these days!"

But she called out to a closed door as the heavy door of 221 slammed shut behind him.

Sherlock spent the time in the cab untwisting his emotions and shedding the anger at Mycroft. It wouldn't do for anyone to see him like this. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, wishing for the tenth time that day that he could have a cigarette. He'd been four months without one, though, and his record was six months. His desire to break the record won out over his desire to smoke, and he promised himself a nicotine patch when he got home.

The cab dropped him off in front of St. Bart's, and he made his way in and down to the morgue. Molly stood over a body, slicing and weighing and measuring, quietly recording her findings in the recorder hanging over the table. She was so deep in concentration she didn't hear Sherlock arrive.

He stood and watched her for a few moments, and then cleared his throat.

Molly's head shot up. "Oh...Sherlock. I didn't hear you come in. You're usually not so quiet." She pulled off her gloves and reached up, turning the recording off. "I'm not going to be in the lab for a while, but if you need to use anything, feel free to let yourself in."

Sherlock stepped over to her, stopping to stare down into the body cavity of the person she was autopsying. "Do you think that's what my lungs look like?" he said distractedly. Molly peered in. "No, that's a three pack a day smoker for many years. But don't think that makes it okay for you to start again!" She smiled up at him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Whether or not I resume smoking has little to do with the state of my lungs and more to do with the state of the rest of my life. Speaking of stressors, Mycroft has a new mission for me."

"Oh?" said Molly, "Where to?"

"An island in the United States. Mackinac Island. Which is spelled differently from the city on the mainland, Mackinaw City. I suspect it has to do with the Native American influences in the area, although I haven't had time to do any real research today. Anyway, it is located in the state of Michigan, which is in the northern part of the country, bordering Canada."

Molly listened, absentmindedly, wondering when she'd be able to finish up this autopsy and go home.

"The island is very interesting, though. No motorized vehicles are allowed on the island, save for emergency vehicles and snowmobiles, which are like jet ski's for snow. It's a touristy, vacation spot for it's quaintness."

Molly tilted her head. "Sounds nice, actually. How do people get around?"

"Horseback, bicycle, and walking, mostly." Sherlock watched Molly. "Do you? Do you think it sounds nice?"

Molly nodded. "It seems like it would be quiet and peaceful. You say you have a mission there?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. There's been a string of murders at one of the hotels and no one has been able to figure out who is responsible."

Molly reached for a new set of gloves. "Well, have fun, Sherlock. I really do need to finish this autopsy so I can go home, though." Her hands hovered over the button to the recorder, watching him.

"Molly…" Sherlock started. "My brother seems to think that since this is a tourist location, I would draw less attention to myself if I didn't go...alone."

Molly's breath caught, and she watched Sherlock."Okay?"

"I need someone that will provide me a convenient cover story for being there. I was wondering if you would like to come with me as my...cover story."

Molly stared at Sherlock, uncomprehending. "Why don't you just take John? He's always assisting you on cases."

Sherlock looked at Molly. "Molly, this is a _romantic_ tourist destination. While I doubt anyone there would recognize me or John, the last thing we need is to disappear off together on a romantic summer island holiday."

Molly conceded that this might be true. "What about Mary? She has...skills that might come in handy on a case like that."

Sherlock shook his head. "Taking my best friend's wife on vacation wouldn't help the rumors much either, and besides, she's still nursing the...infant."

Molly swatted at Sherlock. "Sherlock, that _infant_ has a name, Olivia, and is your Goddaughter! And yes, I suppose at this point Mary's pretty well established with her nursing."

"I know the science says it's best for her to nurse as long as possible," grumbled Sherlock, "But it is frustrating to learn that she's such an asset after she goes and gets herself pregnant.

Molly leaned over and lightly smacked Sherlock on the arm. "She's your friend, not an ASSET."

"In any event," said Sherlock, ignoring her scolding, "I need someone to go on this trip with me and play the part of my romantic partner. And I've made my way through the options and it's either you or Anthea, and I do not want to spend even one day with Anthea, much less five. First, because we don't much get along, and second, because I highly suspect it would make Mycroft jealous. Mycroft jealous is an ugly thing, you should see him when someone beats him to the last serving of dessert at holiday dinner."

Molly giggled at this, and seemed to relax. She closed her eyes and opened them again. "Well, I do have some time off coming. And it would be pretty silly to turn down a free island getaway. When do we leave?"

Sherlock nodded. "Be at Baker Street Saturday morning at 7. Bring about a week's worth of clothes and...whatever you need for a holiday." Suddenly uncomfortable, he turned and made his way back to the door of the morgue. "Don't be late, Molly."

Sherlock made his way back to Baker Street. He wasn't altogether comfortable with the idea of bringing Molly along, but since he'd returned from his self-imposed exile she had been more relaxed and comfortable around him. While he could tell she was still attracted to him, the giggly school-girl crush had seemed to fade, and he hoped that meant she'd realized that he was a terrible choice of romantic partner. Although, if he had to be honest, probably not as terrible as Meat Dagger had been. At least he had more than four brain cells to rub together.

So Molly it was. She'd get a vacation, she'd stay out of the way, and he'd at least have an excuse to be there while he tried to figure out why people kept turning up dead at the resort hotel.

When he got back to Baker Street he texted Mycroft that Dr. Hooper would be accompanying him, and to get all the paperwork and travel arrangements done. He then sat down with his laptop and started doing research on the Island, preparing for his next mission.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock was up most of the night, making notes and reading about Mackinac Island. He knew he only had a few days to make sure he knew everything he needed to know, and once he started researching something he often had to force himself to stop. Mrs. Hudson came in with his morning tea.

"Up already, Sherlock?"

"Haven't slept yet," he said distractedly. "I'll be gone for a week starting Saturday."

"Okay, dear." she said, setting down the tray. "Stay safe."

Sherlock nodded, face buried in his laptop. Mrs. Hudson shook her head and made her way back down the stairs.

Sipping his tea, he made a few more notes on his laptop and then reached for his phone, firing off a string of texts to Mycroft. That done, he closed the laptop, figuring that some sleep wouldn't hurt. There was still two more days until their flight left, and the investigators on the island had sent no new information. Hopefully, there wouldn't be another murder...at least until he got there.

oOoOoOoOoOoO

Molly was sitting at her desk finishing up some paperwork when her office door opened. She turned and looked at the dark haired woman standing in the doorway, face buried in her mobile. She glanced up. "Molly Hooper. I'm to take you shopping."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Sherlock told me you'd be coming. Anthea, is it?"

Anthea smiled. "More or less. Are you ready to go?"

Molly stood and grabbed her bag. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Anthea led her outside to a black car and soon they were whisked off to the shops. Anthea wandered around, piling things in Molly's arms.

"Anthea," said Molly, gasping at a price tag, "Is this really necessary?"

Anthea just gave her a long look, and then tossed two more dresses onto the pile. "Start with those. If they fit, come out and let me look at them on you."

Molly shook her head and went into the dressing room, trying very hard not to look at how much everything cost. In the end, she ended up with five dresses, and seven summer outfits that said "Casual, but with money."

After stops for shoes and accessories, Anthea dropped Molly off at her flat, and the driver helped carry her bags upstairs.

"Remember," said Anthea. "Saturday at 7. Don't worry about ID or paperwork, we'll have new passports for you and Sherlock under your cover names."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The last few days before they were due to leave went quickly, and Sherlock found himself pacing around Baker Street waiting for Molly to arrive. His case was packed and waiting downstairs by the door. He was still nervous about taking the pathologist on the trip with him.

Molly arrived, leaving her bags next to his and making her way up the stairs. "Ah, Molly," said Sherlock, standing. "Right on time. Mycroft will send a car, it should be here soon. Did you and Anthea get everything you needed?"

Molly nodded. "Everything was so expensive, Sherlock."

Sherlock shrugged. "Let Mycroft deal with it. He wants me to to fly halfway around the world for him, the least he can do is figure out how to expense something nice for you." He walked over to the window, peering down to the street. "Where IS that car?"

Molly checked her watch. "There's still ten minutes before you told me to be here, I'm sure they'll be here soon."

Sherlock continued to stare out the window. "Mycroft is bringing our cover stories. We are a married couple, vacationing in the States. We're starting our vacation there on Mackinac Island, and then going to Florida for a few weeks. I don't know what our names are, they'll be on the paperwork. We are wealthy, however. The hotel we're staying at is very expensive."

Molly nodded, looking down at the outfit Anthea had picked out for her travel day. It was comfortable, and fashionable, but not at all what she would have chosen for herself. Perhaps that would make it easier for her to be whoever it was she was supposed to be for this week.

The car eventually arrived, and with it a large envelope of materials. Passports, hotel reservations, airline tickets. Sherlock shuffled through the paperwork as Molly stood, watching.

A faint smile crossed Sherlock's face as he fished the passports out of the envelope. Before Molly could ask him what was so funny, he handed them over to her.

Molly flipped open first one passport, then the other. "Elizabeth and Scott?" She looked up to Sherlock for an explanation.

"Scott, as you know, is one of my names. It was my mother's father's name. My mother's mother was Elizabeth. Mycroft is getting sentimental. I'll be sure to use that against him as soon as humanly possible."

Molly grinned. "Elizabeth. I like that." She rolled the name around in her mouth for a while, trying to get used to it. "Mr. & Mrs. Scott Warner." Sherlock pulled two rings out of the folder, handing one to Molly and slipping the other one onto his finger.

"Yes. I am an investment banker, and you are my wife. He flipped through the paperwork again, frowning. "Apparently my unemployed wife. You do a lot of charity work, this says to decide on a couple you know or care about and if pressed, name those." He continued to frown.

"What's wrong, Sherlock?"

"It just seems, Molly, that even if you had a wealthy spouse, you would still work. You're too smart to sit around being idle."

Molly thought about this for a moment. "Perhaps, but doing charity work is also important, and fulfilling. People with full time jobs can't give that much of their time, but people who don't have to or choose not to work can."

Sherlock handed the rest of the paperwork to Molly. "If you insist. I still think someone of your intellect should be using it in exactly the way you are."

"Cutting up dead people, then?" she joked.

"Molly." said Sherlock, sternly.

She smirked at him and started looking over the paperwork. It was information about their cover story that she'd need to know.

"The car is here. You can finish looking that over in the car."

They made their way down the stairs where the driver was already talking to Mrs. Hudson and loading their bags into the boot. Sherlock and Molly waved goodbye to Mrs. Hudson, and they were off on their adventure.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Once the plane took off, Molly slipped on a pair of earbuds and started an audiobook. Sherlock spent some time deducing everyone within sight, poking at Molly until she removed her headphones so he could tell her choice bits of information. "The man in the blue suit is headed to the States for a job interview, but he doesn't really want it." "Those two flight attendants are having an affair." "The woman sitting over there with all the jewelry - every one of those diamonds are fakes."

"Sh...Scott," said Molly. "This is an almost eight hour flight. Are you going to do this the entire way?"

Sherlock pouted. "I told Mycroft to get us red eye flights so we could sleep through it, but this is what we got. And it's _boring_."

Molly played with her earbuds in her hand. "You've got an iPad, don't you have some stupid game you could play on it?"

Sherlock glared at Molly but took out the iPad and started reading something on it. Molly leaned over to see what he had. "Oh! I read that! They're doing research on microbes that…"

"_Elizabeth_, you're interrupting me." said Sherlock, flicking a finger at her earbuds. Molly shook her head at him and shoved them back into her ears, starting her book back up.

It didn't take long before Molly fell asleep, despite it only being mid-morning. The lull of the plane's engines and the narrator of her book quickly sent her off to dreamland.

Sherlock was deep into his reading when he felt something touch his arm. He looked over, and saw that Molly had tipped over in her sleep, and was leaning against his arm. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, frozen. After a few moments he reached across his body with his hand, preparing to wake her, but before his fingers made contact, he changed his mind and put his arm down. He generally didn't like people touching him, but Molly looked peaceful and it _was_ a long flight. He went back to his reading.

Molly woke up a little later with a start, staring up at Sherlock. She opened her mouth, but Sherlock leaned over and pressed a finger to her lips. Whispering quietly, he reassured her. "We're married, don't apologize."

Molly grimaced. "Oh, right. Yes."

The rest of the flight went without issue, and they touched down in Detroit more or less on time.

"We've got a private plane to take us north, to Traverse City," explained Sherlock, "But then we have a two hour drive to meet the ferry that will take us over to the island. Mycroft thought it would be better cover than landing directly on the small island airport - our cover personas aren't that wealthy."

Molly took all this in as they moved to meet up with the person that would take them to their private plane.

They took off, and after what seemed like a five minute journey compared to their long flight across the ocean, they were landing in Traverse City and Sherlock was seeing about getting the rental car that had been reserved for them.

Just a couple of hours of driving and they'd finally be at Mackinac Island. While it was only 2pm, it was 7pm back home and Molly was travel-weary and ready to relax somewhere that wasn't a moving vehicle.

Just a little while longer, she told herself as she and Sherlock put their bags into the boot of the rental car and Sherlock started driving.

She was asleep within moments.


	3. Chapter 3

Molly wasn't asleep for long, however. The car hit a particularly big bump, and she jostled awake. The first thing she heard was Sherlock talking on one of the mobiles they'd been given when the boarded the private plane.

"We're about an hour out from the city. We'll get there in time to catch one of the ferries." He paused, listening. Molly cracked an eye open, watching him as he concentrated on talking while driving. "Right, so I'll leave the car there and then use it to come back?"

Molly closed her eyes again, letting the hum of the car and Sherlock's voice lull her into half-sleep. She knew she should be enjoying the scenery, but the day had just been exhausting. Eventually she heard Sherlock end the call, and she sat up, looking around. "Are we there yet?"

Sherlock looked over at her. "No, not yet. About 45 more minutes. Do you need to stop for...anything?" he asked, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

Molly giggled. "No, Sherlock, I don't have to use the bathroom. But, you know, it's a thing I do, so you don't have to be all weird about it."

Sherlock scowled at her. "I wasn't being, as you put it, "weird" about anything."

"Uh-huh," she said, turning and looking out the window at all the trees. "There's a lot of trees up here."

Sherlock decided to ignore Molly's need to state the obvious, and they continued the rest of the drive in silence. He pulled into the parking area for one of the ferry lines, and took a ticket from the gate. Pocketing the ticket, he parked and they started unloading their bags out of the boot of the car. After a few moments, a woman drove up on a golf buggy. "Headed to the ferry? I can take you and your stuff over to the dock so you don't have to carry it all."

Sherlock and Molly climbed onto the buggy and held onto their bags as she drove them back through the parking area and across the street to the dock.

Sherlock walked over to where they needed to drop their bags. "Molly, you take care of this, I'll go get our ferry tickets."

The man checking in bags smiled at Molly. "Which hotel are you headed to, miss? We'll tag the bags, and then the porters from the hotel will pick them up at the dock, so you don't have to worry about it. They'll deliver your bags to your room."

Molly looked down at the paper she had put in her handbag. "The Grand Hotel", she said, reading off the slip. "It says here there will be a taxi to take us to the hotel, but that can't be right, can it? I was told there are no vehicles allowed on the island."

The porter smiled, and slipped a tag on each of their bags. "What's your name? I need to write it on the tags."

Molly looked up. "Oh, Warner," she said.

The porter scribbled "Warner" on the bags, and then handed the claim tickets to Molly. "Just in case there's a mixup, but there rarely is. And yes, there will be a taxi, but it's not a vehicle." He winked, just as Sherlock came up behind her.

"I have our tickets, Elizabeth. The ferry will be leaving in about ten minutes. Would you like to walk down to the dock and look out at the island?"

Molly immediately recognized this as Sherlock's way of dragging her away from people, and she smiled at the porter and then turned to Sherlock. "Yes, darling, I'd love to see."

They made their way down to the end of the dock. The line to board the ferry was closer to land, but Sherlock obviously wanted to get Molly alone. They walked in silence until they reached the end of the dock, and Sherlock pointed. "That's Mackinac Island, there. There are four islands in this area, but only two are inhabited.

He pointed to the large bridge to their left. "That bridge is approximately five miles along, and connects the Upper and Lower Peninsulas of the State of Michigan. On the east side of the bridge is Lake Huron, and on the west side of the bridge is Lake Michigan. They combine here at the top.

"So that's still Michigan on the other side of that bridge?"

Sherlock nodded. "There was some sort of property dispute with another state, and Michigan got the land to the north. Anyway, I brought you up here to see how you're doing, _Elizabeth_."

Sherlock gave her a long look, and she smiled. "I'm doing just fine, _Scott_."

Sherlock nodded. "Hopefully we can get this murder sorted out quickly." Just then, he looked up and pointed. One of the ferries had left the island and was speeding across the water, shooting up a huge rooster tail of water behind it.

"How fast is that ferry going?!" asked Molly, alarmed.

Sherlock shook his head. "It is a transfer, not a pleasure ride, although if it's too rough for you, we can sit inside instead of up top. We should go get in line, though."

Sherlock turned and walked towards the line of people waiting for the ferry. Molly lagged behind, enjoying the cut of the casual trousers Sherlock had chosen to wear today.

They eventually boarded the ferry, and Molly watched the porters load the collection of bicycles and vacationers bags after all the people had loaded in. She chose to sit inside, and sat next to the window on the bench seats, watching the giant Mackinac Bridge as they cruised to the island.

Before they knew it, they had docked at the island and they made their way off of the ferry. Sherlock stood on the street, looking around, and then pointed. A horse-drawn carriage was there, with the name of their hotel on the side. It had about five rows of seats. Molly smiled and made her way over to it.

"Good evening, ma'am" said the driver. "Are you headed to the Grand Hotel?"

"We are!" said Molly. "Is this our transportation?"

"It is indeed!" he said. "Come on up!"

Excited, Molly made her way up to the row just behind the driver. "Your horses are beautiful!" she said to him. Sherlock watched them, and Molly knew he was deducing the driver. "What are their names?'

The driver turned around to Molly. "The one on the left is Sarah and the one on the right is Stephen. And I'm Peter, since you didn't ask." He smiled at Molly and she knew he was teasing.

Molly smiled, and looked around her, taking in the sights and smells of the main downtown area of Mackinac Island. Small shops and restaurants lined the streets, and people on bicycles made way for people on horseback or in small carriages. Larger carriages full of people made their way, the driver making announcements. Peter saw Molly watching. "That's the carriage tour of the island. It goes out into the woods and shows some fantastic features of the island, and ends at the old fort." He pointed towards a large structure on a hill, overlooking the water.

"That sounds fun." said Molly. She turned to Sherlock, who glanced around, pretending he hadn't heard her.

Molly rolled her eyes, and settled back in her seat. After a few moments, Peter turned back to the horses and started the short ride up to the Grand Hotel. Molly gazed around her. "It's so beautiful. So green and sunny and quiet."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "And smelly."

The driver laughed. "You'll get used to the horse droppings. We do have people who go around picking it up, it doesn't stay on the road for long. But watch your step while you're out and about."

They were drop off at the hotel with several other vacationers, and made their way into the hotel to check in. "Warner," Sherlock told the front desk, who quickly saw about getting them their keys.

"Your stay here includes, breakfast, lunch and dinner. Dinner in the main dining room is fancy dress, men are expected to be in suits and women must be in dresses or pants suits." She looked them over. "Your bags will probably not be here in time for you to have dinner in the main dining room tonight, but you can eat at one of the other restaurants in the hotel or across the street at the golf course, or you can have something brought up to your room."

Molly suddenly felt the weight of the day on her shoulders. "Room service sounds wonderful," she said to the clerk, who smiled and handed her a menu.

"Have you traveled all the way from England today?"

Molly nodded, and turned to Sherlock. "Darling, can we please go up to our room as soon as possible. I am exhausted."

Sherlock smiled one of his patented fake smiles at her, and they were off to their room.

When Sherlock opened the door to their room, Molly gasped. The hotel had been a cacophony of Victorian color, but she wasn't prepared for the beauty of their room. Done in pastels and mints, the green and yellow and pink all played off each other wonderfully. A small door led out onto a small balcony.

Molly eyed the single bed.

Sherlock stepped in behind her and followed her gaze. "I'll take the sofa. I doubt I'll be sleeping much anyway, I have got to investigate. Why don't you order us some food while I stroll around the halls a little bit and acquaint myself with the layout?"

Molly nodded and reached for the room phone, calling in an order of a couple of sandwiches for them. She also ordered up a bottle of wine; if Mycroft was paying, she should be able to enjoy a glass of wine or two out on the balcony. Sherlock had disappeared out of the room, and Molly dug around in her carry-on for her book, settling herself on the sofa to read.

The food came long before Sherlock returned. Molly took the wine and her sandwich out on the balcony and was please to find a small table to sit at. She looked out over the island and smiled. Sherlock could run around solving crimes, she was very much going to enjoy this vacation.

oOo

By the time Sherlock came back to the room, the sun was setting and Molly had returned back into the room, using the luxurious en suite bathroom to change into a pair of summer pyjamas and put her hair up in a braid.

She was sitting on the bed, on top of the covers, flipping through the channels on the TV when he made his way in, sighing and wandering over to the leftover dishes from Molly's meal. "Is there anything for me?"

Molly pointed to the small refrigerator. "I put yours in there, I had no idea when you'd be back. There's wine, too."

Sherlock hummed and pulled the plate out of the fridge, pulling the top piece of bread off the sandwich and investigating before picking it up and biting into it, wandering around the room. He glanced out the window for a moment, then set the plate down and began rummaging around in his bags. He pulled two suits out of the garment bag and hung them up and then started pulling shirts out, tsking at them.

"Either I'm going to have to iron these or send them out. My casual clothes fared better but my silk shirts are a mess." He sighed, and hung them up. "We'll see how the shower steams them in the morning. Won't need the suits until dinner anyway."

Molly watched all this, realizing she hadn't even considered unpacking her things. She had been so exhausted. "It's interesting to see how vain you actually are," she commented, flipping the channel on the TV again.

Sherlock stopped to look at her. "Vain?"

She nodded, picking up her wine glass and taking a drink. "Vain. Your suits are bespoke, even when your hair is a mess of curls, you can tell they're intentionally ruffled."

Sherlock smirked at her and continued to hang up his clothes, but she couldn't help but smile at herself when she watched him run his fingers through his hair when he passed by the mirror.

After a while they pulled some of the pillows off the bed for Sherlock, and they rummaged around in the closet until they found an extra blanket. Sherlock stepped into the bathroom and came out in a pair of pyjamas and a dressing gown, his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He walked back to the window again, absentmindedly brushing as he looked out over the island. Molly took advantage of the time to do her own nightly ritual, taking her contacts out and putting on her glasses, and then brushing her teeth.

She was just finishing up when Sherlock stepped back into the bathroom to spit. She stepped aside and he rinsed his mouth out and then looked down at her. "I didn't know you wore glasses."

"Only at night. I don't like to sleep in my contacts, so I wear glasses at night and keep them near the bed in case I have to get up." She stared up at him, suddenly aware of how close they were. She couldn't exit the bathroom because he was blocking the door, and he was showing no signs of moving.

After a moment he seemed to realize that he was the bottleneck, and he stepped out of the bathroom and towards the sofa. Molly turned off all the lights except the small bedside lamp, and then climbed into bed. "All set?" she asked.

"Yes," said Sherlock.

Molly reached over and turned out the light. "Goodnight, Sherlock."

"Goodnight, Molly," came his voice through the darkness.

oOo

Sherlock tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable on the sofa. He'd slept on the sofa of 221B many times, although if he were to be honest, usually that was because he'd passed out after being up for days and days working on a case. He'd never actually slept on it intentionally.

He sat up, peering across the room at the king sized bed the pint-sized pathologist was using. Surely there was room in that massive bed for him. It was a waste for so much of it to go unused.

He stood, grabbing one of the pillows, and walked over to the bed. Molly was sprawled out on the bed on her back, arms akimbo, her mouth slightly open. Soft snores came with every breath.

Sherlock gauged how much bed she was using and decided that he could definitely sleep on the bed without disturbing her. He set down the pillow and then went back for the blanket. He would lay on top of the blankets she was using, and cover himself with the extra blanket. Surely she couldn't object to that?

He climbed into the bed slowly, as to not disturb her, and fell asleep within minutes.

oOo

Molly awoke slowly, the sun coming in through the large windows. She woke up on her side, facing the edge of the bed. She lay there for a moment, listening to the birds outside. Yawning, she tugged the covers towards her chin, hoping to get a few more minutes sleep. The covers didn't move, however, and she turned to see what was going on.

What was going on was that Sherlock was sound asleep in the bed, on top of her blanket but under his own. She stared at him for a moment. He was curled up on his side, facing her, his long curls tumbling down over his eyes. She had the sudden urge to smooth his hair back out of his face.

Her arm had barely twitched when Sherlock's eyes opened. "Morning, Molly."

Molly stared at him. "Why are you in the bed?!"

Sherlock sighed and sat up. "Because the bed is large and that couch is very uncomfortable. I stayed above the covers so you wouldn't be uncomfortable with any closeness. It was all very proper."

Molly shook her head and got up, walking over to the window. "None of this is proper, it's weird. What are your plans for today?"

"First, we're going to go to breakfast like any other couple on vacation. Then you can do whatever you want while I stick around the lobby. I will probably find a comfy chair and take my computer down there under the pretense of a working vacation. I will be able to keep an eye on the comings and goings of the lobby staff. Also, I will see who checks in and checks out. Later, we will meet for dinner."

Molly nodded and stepped out onto the balcony. "What time is it?" she called over her shoulder.

"7:30. Do you want to shower first or shall I?"

Molly stuck her head back in. "Go ahead. I'm going to enjoy the quiet morning out here for a bit."

Sherlock turned and headed into the bathroom, and Molly sat down at the small balcony table. She had a whole day on the island to do whatever she wanted. How lovely.


	4. Chapter 4

After Molly's shower, she said goodbye to Sherlock, who was gathering up a few things to move down to the lobby for observations. Making her way down to the lobby herself, she decided to take advantage of the lovely summer day and walk down to the main part of town instead of taking the carriage shuttle.

There were lots of people walking to and fro, as well as horse drawn carriages and many, many people on bicycles. She reached the main street after a bit of a walk and stopped to make her way across a grassy area down to a beach. She stood just beyond the water, looking out over the water. The sun sparkled on the surface.

After a few moments she walked back up to the street and continued her walk. She saw several places where you could rent a bicycle, and she thought that might be a nice thing to do, if she had time. But what immediately sucked her in was a small sign.

"ISLAND BOOKSTORE."

Molly made her way into the small, cramped bookstore. They had a large selection of books about the area, and smaller sections for fiction and other books. She scanned the titles until she found one about the history of the island, and went and made her purchase. After that she wandered down the street some more, smelling the sugar in the air from all the fudge shops.

Finally giving in, she went into one of the shops at random and looked at the selection. There was fudge of all imaginable flavors, and even some she didn't expect. She bought a slice of dark chocolate cherry fudge and continued walking. She found a small marina and sat down on a bench, watching the water and nibbling at the super-rich fudge.

Her mobile rang. She answered it without looking, knowing that only one person (possibly two, she supposed it could by Mycroft calling) had the number. "Hello?"

"Hello, Elizabeth, darling," said Sherlock in a fake sing-songy voice. "Where have you gotten off to?"

Molly looked around. "Oh, hi honey. I'm down at a marina watching the water. Do you need me to come back?"

"No, no, enjoy yourself! I know you're very disappointed that I had to work today. Just meet me back here at 5 and we'll dress for dinner and having something delicious."

"Sure thing, Scott. See you later!" She hung up the phone, shrugged, and pulled out the book she'd bought, opening it to the table of contents.

oOo

Sherlock ended the call and stuck his mobile back in his trousers pocket, then went back to his laptop. There had been a bellhop hanging around and he wanted to make sure his cover was strong. He adjusted a few numbers on the spreadsheet he was working on. To any casual passers-by it looked like work. It was actually a representation of his sock index.

About an hour later, Sherlock was reading an article online about beekeeping in urban areas when he noticed a bit of a fuss happening behind the front desk. His eyes slid over, watching one of the maids frantically whispering to the front desk clerk, who snatched up a phone and made a quiet phone call. Sherlock shifted in his seat. To an observer, it looked like he was just getting more comfortable, but he was turning so that he could watch the desk over his laptop.

After a few moments, a man in a suit came out from the offices behind and made his way over to Sherlock. "Mr. Warner?"

Sherlock set down his laptop and stood. "Yes?"

"My name is Matthew Regier. I'm the general manager here. Our mutual friend said that if there was any more trouble at the hotel, that you would be the person to to go to."

Sherlock nodded. "I was told you would be my contact here if there was another...incident. Is there somewhere private we could talk?"

Matthew led Sherlock back into the offices of the hotel, and then down a service passageway to a freight elevator. "There's been another murder. This time in the guest's room. The maid found him when doing her rounds today."

Sherlock nodded, and followed Matthew down the hall. The local police had already arrived, and there was a few moments of fumbling around before they were ready to allow him into the room. "He is undercover," Matthew told the police. "I don't even trust my own staff at this point, so to everyone else, he's just a guest here. But he's been sent by someone in the British Government and his credentials are impeccable."

Sherlock, meanwhile, had been looking around the room. The deceased, he would later learn, was named Oliver Horton. He was staying alone, and as far as anyone knew, it was a pleasure trip. The body was on the bed, face up. A towel lay next to him on the bed, twisted up.

"He was clearly strangled with this towel," said Sherlock, circling the bed. "I don't see any signs of a struggle, so he was either very surprised by the attacker, or expected him to be in the room. Sherlock looked around some more. "He hadn't showered today, and there's no signs of breakfast." He opened up the closet and glanced in, and continued looking around the room.

"Mr. Horton was a low-paid customer service phone representative who couldn't have possibly afforded a stay at this hotel on his own. He also had a drugs problem."

Narrowing his eyes, Sherlock pulled the man's suitcase out of his closet and opened it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small knife and began slicing at the seams of the lining. As the police moved in, trying to stop him, he turned and held up a bag of what was clearly heroin.

"Your victim was bringing drugs to the island, possibly to sell. Your murderer thought to get them from him for free, and killed him while trying to convince him to give up the drugs. And then couldn't find the drugs, the idiot."

Sherlock tossed the bag to the nearest police officer. "What happened to the luggage of the other victims?"

The officer in charge flipped through his notebook. "They're in evidence at the police station."

"I suspect your other two victims were also ferrying in drugs. No telling whether or not the murderer managed to find the drugs during those crimes, but you might want to search the bags again."

Sherlock stood for a moment, thinking. "This is all fine, but doesn't get us any closer to WHO the murderer is." He stood over the body again.

"Male, between 5'7" and 5'10", strong but not muscular. Red hair." He said the last bit while pointing to some hairs caught in the towel that had been used to kill Mr. Horton.

Matthew closed his eyes, thinking. "I don't know all of my summer staff personally but that should help narrow it down some. I'll arrange an all-staff meeting this evening and the police can question people."

Sherlock nodded.

Matthew led Sherlock back to the door, making sure no one was in the hallway, and then led him back to the service elevator and back into the office. As they stepped back out into the lobby, he raised his voice. "I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Warner. I do hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here at the Grand Hotel."

Sherlock smiled and shook his hand, and then made his way back up to their room, texting Molly. "I may have solved this already."

His response from Molly gave him pause.

"Shame. It's really pretty here."

Sherlock pondered this for a few moments, then fired off a response. "Be back by 5. We've got a dinner to enjoy."

Putting his mobile back into his pocket, Sherlock stepped out onto the balcony and looked out over the island. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stay a few more days. For Molly, of course. She was quite enjoying herself.

A little voice in a little room in the back of his mind palace whispered that maybe he was enjoying being around Molly, too, but he slammed the door on it and made his way back into the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock lost himself in his laptop and was startled when Molly made her way into the room, arms filled with bags. She set them down on the bed.

Sherlock took in the pile of bags on the bed. "Did some shopping, did we?"

Molly smiled. "Well, if I'm getting a free vacation, I can afford some shopping, no?" She turned and went into the closet, where she had hung up her clothing that morning before heading out. "I'm going to shower and get dressed for dinner."

Molly disappeared into the bathroom, and Sherlock stood and walked over to the closet, trying to decide what shirt to wear. The wrinkles had fallen out enough and he decided to wear his purple shirt, which was one of his favorites.

While he was waiting for Molly to finish up in the bathroom, he received a text from Mycroft. The police had questioned four ginger hotel employees, but they hadn't had any luck in getting a confession, and without better proof, they didn't feel comfortable making an arrest. Sherlock sighed and put his phone away. Apparently this wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought.

When the bathroom door opened, Sherlock was face-first into his mobile, and he spoke without looking up. "Molly, it seems that the information I gave the American police was not good enough for their small little minds and…"

He looked up, trailing off. "...they...couldn't…"

Molly stood in front of him wearing a deep purple tea length dress. The top had a lace overlay in the same shade of purple. Her hair was down and curled.

Sherlock stopped speaking altogether, and blinked a few times. Molly giggled.

"They couldn't what, Sherlock?"

Sherlock swallowed. "They couldn't make an arrest. That's an interesting color choice."

"Oh?" said Molly, looking down at the dress.

"Don't play coy, Molly. You know I have a shirt in that exact shade of purple." Sherlock nodded his head toward the bed, where his purple shirt was laid out with his suit coat and trousers.

"I may have chosen it because I like the color, yes." said Molly, smiling. She walked over to the closet and slipped on a pair of heels. "Your turn in the bathroom."

Sherlock gathered up his clothing and made his way into the bathroom.

Molly shook her head and stepped out onto the balcony, enjoying the view and the sounds of the horses. If truth be told, she was a bit nervous about dinner. Fancy meals were not really her thing, usually preferring take out in front of the telly. She stood on the balcony, looking out over the island, until Sherlock cleared his throat from the doorway. She turned.

Molly had seen Sherlock in his beautiful purple shirt. Molly had seen Sherlock in countless suits. But she was momentarily blinded by the beautiful man that stood before her.

"Do close your mouth, Mrs. Warner. I believe we need to go down to dinner." Sherlock held out a hand, which she took, stepping into the room and following him out the door and down to the expensively appointed Main Dining Room.

They were seated immediately, and Molly spent some time looking over the menu. Sherlock glanced at it, but spent most of his time watching the waitstaff as they moved about the grand dining room, taking orders and delivering food.

When their waiter, a blonde young woman who introduced herself as "Clara" came to the table, Molly agonized over a few last minute choices and finally gave her order. Sherlock glanced down at the menu again and ordered his appetizer, salad and entree effortlessly. Molly smiled at him when Clara left to put their order in. "You're not even going to eat, are you?"

"Nope." said Sherlock, popping the "p" while staring over Molly's head at a ginger bus boy who was clearing the table behind her. "University student, comes from money, working on the island over the summer as basically a three month holiday, parties too much, was out late last night with a blonde…" He trailed off, squinting at the bus boy. "With Clara, actually."

Molly sipped her wine and shook her head at Sherlock. "I don't even want to know how you figured that out."

Their appetizers came, and Sherlock nibbled on his a bit, but mostly pushed it around on the plate. Molly tucked into hers immediately, savoring every bite. She was glad to see that while it was fancy in the dining room, they were mostly left alone. When someone would come by to top off their water or bring the next dish, they were not intrusive at all.

Sherlock continued to pick at his food as the courses came out, while deducing staff and guests alike, occasionally to Molly's amusement. "The gentleman at the next table has been trying to propose to his girlfriend all night, but she hasn't stopped talking long enough for him to get a word in."

After dinner (Molly teased Sherlock mercilessly about the fact that he'd inhaled every bite of dessert, despite "not eating while on cases".) they moved into a smaller parlor room where a small orchestra played light music while espresso was served in tiny cups. Molly and Sherlock shared a sofa and listened.

"The violinist is very good," remarked Sherlock, "I'd be very interested in learning where she studied."

Molly nodded, watching the petite brunette play. Molly liked classical music, but she would leave the judging of skill to Sherlock.

As they listened and sipped their espresso, Molly didn't notice that her hand had slipped off of her lap down between she and Sherlock until she felt his hand brush against hers. She jumped, and went to pull her hand away, but Sherlock deftly caught her wrist in his fingers and turned her hand over, placing it in his much larger palm. Leaning in to whisper in her ear, he said "It would be suspicious if my _wife _flinched every time she made physical contact with me, _Elizabeth._"

Molly smiled nervously. "Of course." She was surprised, however, that Sherlock left her hand his his, holding her hand throughout the rest of the performance.

When it concluded, Sherlock stood, holding out a hand to help her to her feet. Smiling at him, they made their way out of the parlor and back to their room, still holding hands.

Once they got back into the room, Molly blushed. "Sorry about that. I know it's not something you're comfortable with."

Sherlock shrugged out of his suit coat and hung it up. "Choosing not to have physical contact with people is not the same thing as being uncomfortable with it."

Molly narrowed her eyes. "If it's not a comfort thing, then why are you so against it?"

Sherlock toed off his shoes and pushed them into the corner. "I just prefer to be the one to instigate such things, and I rarely want to, that's all." He began unbuttoning his shirt. "Molly, I'm assuming you want to change out of your dress. Why don't you take the bathroom and then I can change in here."

Molly nodded, knowing a topic change when she saw one. She grabbed her pyjamas and disappearing into the bathroom. Sherlock stared after her for a moment, and then quickly changed into his pyjama bottoms and a grey tee-shirt. By the time Molly came out he was stretched out on the bed, his head propped up on a pillow, reading a book.

Molly watched him for a moment. "Shall I just assume I have a new bedmate, then?"

Sherlock looked up from his book. "If you don't mind. I will sleep under the other blanket if it makes you feel more comfortable."

Molly hummed non-committedly, and put her hair up into a ponytail. "We're both adults, Sherlock. And fully dressed. I think we'll manage. But if YOU would be more comfortable under your own blanket, by all means."

Molly stepped back into the bathroom to clean her teeth as Sherlock rolled his eyes at her. She came out of the bathroom and picked up her book on the history of the island and settled herself in on the other side of the bed. "I know it's not super late but I've had a long day and I'm just going to read for a while. If you aren't ready to sleep that's fine, I can sleep with the lights on. During medical school I learned to sleep through just about anything."

"I'm probably going to read for a bit and then try to sort out all the information from today, so don't worry too much about me. I should go clean my teeth, though." Sherlock climbed out of the bed and Molly slipped herself under the covers, turning on the small reading lamp next to her.

Sherlock came back out of the bathroom and turned off the other lights, turning his reading light on as well. He stood next to the bed for a moment, staring at the sheets, and finally shrugged and climbed in underneath the blankets. Molly was glad to see that the king sized bed left plenty of room between them. While her schoolgirl crush on Sherlock had faded, she did still find him very attractive.

She read for a while, and then when she noticed Sherlock had pulled himself into his "Mind Palace" position, flat on his back with his hands steepled under his chin, she turned off her reading light and set down her book. She snuggled into the blankets and was asleep before she knew it.


End file.
